


Growing Up Nelson-Murdock

by amaronith



Series: Dadvocados [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Multi, Parent-Child Relationship, So many cameos in this fic, What-If Kid Fic, child endangerment, timelines are all squiffy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-10-12 03:57:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10481556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaronith/pseuds/amaronith
Summary: Growing up the son of Foggy Nelson and Matt Murdock, and everything that goes with it.





	1. Cover

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a sequel to Dadvocados, and you're not gonna understand anything that is going on here if you haven't read that fic first!

Growing Up Nelson-Murdock Cover Art by [Sciderman](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sciderman) (commission info can be found [here](http://sciderman.tumblr.com/post/148710908397/hey-guys-its-that-time-again-even-though-i))


	2. Chapter 1: Peter, Age 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has nightmares, sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my betas fulldaysdrive and nightwalker for being amazing people and putting up with my whining. <3

Peter has nightmares, sometimes. Well, just the one nightmare, really. Always the same series of sounds - footsteps running across the pavement, gasping breaths in the night, a child crying, “Ben - oh God, _Ben,_ what do we do?!” “Hide him, _hide him, May_!” “Shhh, shhh Peter, you need to be quiet. You need to be quiet or the bad men will find you, Peter! I love you-!”, one gunshot, two, and then silence like a gaping maw, vast and echoing in the darkness. A splash of red against the black.  
  
And then he’s alone, in the dark, in the quiet, utterly terrified.  
  
He knows, when he’s awake, that his Papa came for him after that, pulled him up out of the dark and wrapped around Peter and Daddy like his favorite blankie. But the dream gets stuck in the dark, like a video that gets paused and won’t start again, and Peter would wake up crying, but he couldn’t make a sound, oh no, he had to be quiet or the Bad Men would find him, even though Uncle Bucky said he took care of them. And if they found him, they’d hurt Daddy and Papa, and he couldn’t let that happen, not to them, too.  
  
“Peter?” Peter looked up, sniffling and rubbing at his cheeks as his Daddy pushed aside the beaded curtain that blocked off Peter’s room from the rest of the living room. “Hey, buddy, you okay?”  
  
“Nuh uh.”  
  
“You had another bad dream, huh?”  
  
“Uh huh,” Peter sniffled again, rubbing at his cheeks.  
  
Daddy came in further to Peter's room and reached out, brushing his fingers over Peter's hair softly. “Wanna come sit on the sofa with me for a little while?”  
  
Peter nodded against his father's hand - Daddy was blind, Papa had explained before, and that meant he couldn't see, so Peter always made sure that when he couldn't talk out loud (and they never yelled at him about that, even though other adults had) he pressed against Daddy so Daddy would know what he was trying to say - and shuffled closer so that his father could pick him up.  
  
His Daddy's face was cold, and he smelled like winter, which meant Daddy had gone on one of his night time walks again. Peter sometimes wondered what his Daddy did, going out on the roof at night, but Uncle Bucky said that sometimes a man needed to work out his demons alone, away from his family - not because he didn't want their help, but because he had to get himself to a place where he could accept it.  
  
He wasn't sure what Uncle Bucky meant by demons, either, but it had made sense at the time. Maybe it had to do with having bad thoughts, like Peter did when he couldn't get away from his dreams.  
  
Peter, however, was not allowed to go on the roof by himself for _any reason whatsoever_ , so he kept his “working through his demons” to himself, cuddled up to his parents’ sides as they watched videos.  
  
Daddy put on the first Harry Potter movie, and Peter snuggled closer, closing his eyes so he could listen to the audio description, too.  
  
As Harry was told that he was a wizard, something occurred to Peter.  
  
“...Daddy?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“ _We_ have a cupboard under the stairs.”  
  
Daddy tensed up under Peter's cheek. “Yes, we do. But good people who love their children don't put them in cupboards under the stairs. Remember how we talked about the Dursleys, and how what they did was abuse and not okay? And how Papa and I would never ever do something like that?”  
  
Peter nodded. “Uh huh.”  
  
“Good.” Daddy kissed Peter's temple and gave him a squeeze. “Besides, we already have something under the stairs. You wouldn't fit.” He tickled Peter's tummy and made him giggle.  
  
“What's in there?”  
  
Daddy went quiet for a long moment. “...Would you like me to show you?”  
  
Peter nodded against Daddy's chest. “Please?”  
  
Daddy reached over to pause the movie. “Okay - can you reach the light switch for the living room?”  
  
“Yup!”  
  
“Okay, go turn the lights on while I get it. Watch your step in the dark.”  
  
Peter hurried off to turn on the light as Daddy pulled out a giant trunk - like Harry Potter's! - out from under the stairs. “Oh!”  
  
“Come here? I want you to be very careful when I show you this stuff - it belonged to my Dad.”  
  
Peter frowned. Daddy didn’t really talk about _his_ Daddy very much. “...Grandpa Jack?”  
  
“Yup. It was his name we changed your middle name to, but everyone called him Jack.”  
  
Peter wriggled up next to his father, peering into the trunk. “Huh?”  
  
“Your Grandpa Jack was a boxer - Battlin’ Jack Murdock. This was his robe - he got it special for his last fight.”  
  
“Because it was his last fight?”  
  
Daddy’s face did something strange - a kind of ripple of sadness moving across it before it went to a normal expression. “No - he was facing a big time fighter. Guy named Creel. Do you see the poster in there?”  
  
Peter looked in the trunk and there was a poster in there - faded and yellowed and he was scared to touch it because it looked like it would tear if he did. “Uh huh.”  
  
“That was for the fight - Dad was small time, but Creel wasn’t. Dad… my Dad, he. He did his best, he won the fight, and later that night he,” Daddy swallowed hard. “He died. Was killed, like your aunt and uncle.”  
  
_Oh_. No wonder Daddy was so upset. Peter turned away from the trunk to wrap his arms around his father, and wrapped his legs around his father’s chest when he scooped Peter up to hug him tighter. “You miss him.”  
  
Daddy nodded, keeping his cheek pressed to Peter’s hair. “Sorry, Pete. I’m glad I got to share his stuff with you, though. This stuff is all I have left of him.”  
  
Peter nodded. He didn’t have anything from his first parents, or Aunt May and Uncle Ben, so he knew how important the trunk was to Daddy.  
  
Like Uncle Bucky says: It’s about knowing where you came from.  
  
(Peter doesn’t think about how he came from the dark, from a splash of red against the black.)  
  
There was a groan from Daddy and Papa’s bedroom and Papa stumbled out, rubbing at his face to hide his yawn. “Okay, what?”  
  
“Nightmare turned to watching Harry Potter to showing Peter my Dad’s old stuff.”  
  
Papa looked confused for a moment. “... _ah_. Okay. Are you two okay now?”  
  
Peter glanced at Daddy, then looked back at Papa and shrugged a shoulder. Not really.  
  
“We’re fine, Foggy.”  
  
“ _Uh huh_. Give me the child and we’ll go make cocoa while you put this all away.”  
  
Daddy handed Peter over to Papa, kissing him softly as he did so. They hadn’t done that sort of thing before, but they were both much happier since they started doing it, so Peter didn’t think about it too much. When he had asked about it, Papa had shrugged and said ‘sometimes you just want to let people know how you feel about them. Daddy and I love each other a lot, so we kiss each other when we’re both in the mood to. Consent applies even when you’re married, Peter.’  
  
Papa made cocoa the same way Uncle Bucky makes cocoa, and when they were finished and Daddy helped bring over the mugs to the sofa (a special treat for Peter, so he was extra careful not to spill), Papa pointed to the laptop. “Okay, let’s get back to the movie.”  
  
Peter tucked himself in between his parents as he watched the screen, carefully sipping his cocoa. Later, as he started to drift off, a very strange thought occurred to him:  
  
_This_ is where he comes from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I've been getting a lot of comments about, how articulate Peter is for a four year old - even a smart one!
> 
> The thing is? I've been basing him off my experiences with my nephew, who just turned three in October. *shrugs* I don't know what to tell you, guys, this is what I know.


	3. Chapter 1 Interlude: Matt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve… been thinking about my Dad. How he died.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my betas fulldaysdrive and nightwalker for their help! Any mistakes are mine and mine alone.

Peter was asleep in between him and Foggy by the time the movie ended, and Foggy yawned jaw crackingly wide. “Ugh - we are not tender young college students anymore, Matty, we’re going to regret this when we have to be up in two hours.”  
  
“Probably,” Matt murmured back, tipping his head over onto Foggy’s shoulder. “...I need to talk to you about something?”  
  
Foggy frowned against Matt’s hair. “Put Peter in bed and talk on the roof?”  
  
Matt nodded and sat upright, gathering Peter up into his arms to carry him to his bed as Foggy shut down the laptop and put it somewhere safe before gathering up their cups to put in the sink. Once Peter was safely tucked in, Matt met Foggy at the foot of the stairs to the roof. They silently walked up and out, onto the roof in nothing but their pajama bottoms and hoodies as they stood in the snow - the final stubborn clinging remains of winter as March drew to a close -  in silence.  
  
“I’ve… been thinking about my Dad. How he died,” Matt blurted out suddenly, reaching out to take Foggy’s hand to steady himself. “And… and I’ve been trying to see things from his perspective, now that I’m a father. And I’m… conflicted. About things.”  
  
Foggy squeezed his hand. “I’m listening.”  
  
“I just. If I was in the same place as him, where I was alone and my son was rooting for me to win and it meant a nice chunk of change if I _had_ won the fight, but the result of winning would be my death - and he _had_ to know they would kill him, he _had to know that_ \- I couldn’t leave Peter alone like that. I would’ve just…. Not fought. I would’ve found some other way, some how, to make ends meet because my son needs me to _be there_ more than he needs a chunk of change and the sound of a crowd cheering my name.”  
  
Foggy tilted his head, his hair slipping along his shoulders. “Yeah?”  
  
“And… and what does that mean, then, in terms of what Dad did?”  
  
Foggy was quiet for a long moment. “Well. Stating for the record that anything I say is based on what you told me about your dad, and I can’t actually speak for him, but… Matt, it sounds like you realize that his death wasn’t your fault. That he didn’t win because you wanted him to, he won for himself. But, on the other hand, maybe he didn’t see a way out. He needed the money from the fights, and you’ve said he didn’t have any real skilled labor knowledge to speak of, right?” Matt nodded, tucking his and Foggy's hands into the pocket of his hoodie. “So he was between a rock and a hard place. He had probably been in that position for a long time, and it was getting tighter all the time. And it sounds morbid, but… maybe that last fight was him deciding how he’d be crushed, and it was easier for him to die rather than stop fighting. But Matty, that still doesn't make it your fault. It was not your fault that he died.”  
  
Matt took a deep, shuddering breath. “...I know.” Tears spilled out of Matt's eyes, and he couldn't stop it. It was like a dam had burst inside him and let out twenty-one years worth of guilt and sorrow, the wave of emotion both freeing and destructive as he sobbed on the roof in the cold. “I _know_.”  
  
“Oh sweetheart,” Foggy murmured, pulling Matt into a tight hug. “That's it, my love, let it out… I’m here. I love you, and I’m here.”  
  
Matt clutched at Foggy, sobbing quietly into his shoulder, and it should've been mortifying, crying like this in front of Foggy, but it wasn't - it was like a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders, and Foggy had helped him move it. He wasn't sure how long they stayed up there with Matt sobbing like a child, but by the time the tears slowed he could feel the first weak rays of dawn sun on his skin. “Fuck.”  
  
“Mm, maybe not - shower sex is perilous when you rush it and we don't have time for anything more than a quickie before your brother comes for Peter.”  
  
(Matt still wasn't sure about the weird thrill he got being able to call someone his brother and have it be legally true. It didn't make any sense, and yet.  
  
And yet.)  
  
“Can we call in 'emotionally compromised’ to work?” Matt kept his face pressed into Foggy's neck, unwilling to pull away and have Foggy see what a mess he was.  
  
(Too late.)  
  
“Nope. We’d never be able to take any cases, with the way you get-” Matt snorted and Foggy pinched his butt. “Don't laugh, you know it's true, you goober.”  
  
“Yeah, but you love me, so what does that make you?”  
  
“Smart.” Foggy pulled back to kiss Matt's face. “Come on, let's get inside and get cleaned up. I’ll brew us some strong coffee and you can get yourself re-centered.”  
  
Matt kissed him, soft and sweet and still tasting of hot cocoa. “I’m sorry I’m such a disaster, Fog.”  
  
“I knew that when I married you,” Foggy murmured fondly. “And you're not really a disaster. Not about this, anyway. I’m really proud of you, Matt. I know how hard this was for you.”  
  
“For what? Realizing I’ve been wrongly blaming myself for over two decades?”  
  
“For _talking to me_ about it. I know that's hard for you, and I’m really glad you decided to share this with me, instead of dealing with it all on your own.”  
  
Matt flushed, pleased and embarrassed about it. “Yeah, well. I'm working on it.”  
  
“You're doing a good job.” Foggy kissed him again. “C’mon. Clean up, coffee and breakfast, and then we face the day.”  
  
“Together,” Matt said, linking their pinkies.  
  
“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I want to do with this fic is that most chapters will be from Peter's POV, and then little interludes will come after from an adult's perspective. This isn't ALWAYS going to be the case, but that's my goal! Which means every update will be technically two chapters every time.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it!


	4. Chapter 2: Bucky (Peter, Age 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The thing is, I know I’m being ridiculous. I get it, I’m worrying about nothing. But at the same time, I’m _not._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout outs to my beta readers for their help with this! fulldaysdrive, nightwalker, and A_SoD!
> 
> any other mistakes in this are mine and mine alone

“The thing is, I know I’m being ridiculous. I get it, I’m worrying about nothing,” Bucky said as he cooked hashbrowns and eggs for Sam and Steve (because they were both insane and actually woke up early to go _running_ . What the fuck, who even _does that_ ? It was like that one TV show Karen showed him said: sure it kept you healthy, but at what cost?). “But at the same time, I’m _not_ . This is my nephew! Introducing him to the rest of you guys _should_ be slow, and Clint and Natasha aren’t stressful the same way the rest of you are.”  
  
Sam arched an eyebrow at him. “I’m gonna forgive you for saying that, because the only time I met the kid he lost the ability to talk.”  
  
Bucky wobbled his spatula back and forth. “His talking was spotty even before Steve scared the bejesus out of him. Kid’s traumatized, you know.”  
  
“... _huh_.” Sam sipped his coffee as he watched Bucky cook. “And he’s not in therapy?”  
  
“This doesn't get mentioned to Tony,” Bucky said, with a glare at the ceiling that meant to include JARVIS in that.  
  
“Understood, Sergeant,” JARVIS replied reluctantly as Sam nodded, far more amiable.  
  
“They can't afford it,” Bucky said finally with a wince at the pan of potatoes he was poking at. “And they’ve got enough bills - I don't want to think of their combined student debt, either - that covering the cost of a therapist that would benefit Peter would wipe them out. And they also won't accept outside help on that front because Matt has issues with charity.” Bucky remembered how Matt had to be cajoled around to accepting even Stark's money regarding Bucky the year before, the way the muscles in his jaw had twitched as Karen and Foggy had gone through and paid off so many bills the numbers made Bucky's head spin to think about.  
  
“That's stupid, this is their kid.”  
  
“ _Exactly_.” Bucky pointed the spatula at Sam. “You think your ma would let a stranger like Tony Stark swoop in and pay for it if you or your siblings needed highly specialized care because some fucker executed your aunt and uncle in front of you when you were three years old?”  
  
“But you bought them groceries,” Sam pointed out, in that same voice he used when he was playing at Devil's Advocate.  
  
“That's different - that was for the entire family and I benefited from that in a very tangible way, not just a pat on the back. Like, yeah, I bought the groceries, but that was because I was also the one who cooked the meals, and they refused to accept the money any time I tried to pay rent. It’s _different_.”  
  
Sam sipped his coffee again. “Okay. Back to the real reason you are freaking out about Peter meeting Clint and Natasha - which is, you’re freaking out about him meeting Tony again.”  
  
This was why Bucky hated rooming with Sam just as much as he enjoyed it. Sam’s insightfulness often got turned on Bucky in inconvenient ways. Like Sam noticing Bucky's “awkward turtle crush,” as Sam called it, on the team’s benefactor.  
  
“I just. Peter’s important to me. I don't even wanna think about making a move if he’s not okay with him. So, _when I am ready to…_ he’s last.” Because Bucky wanted to hang onto the sweet _potential_ that was still there, that lived in the way Tony smiled at him, the way Tony found little and unnecessary ways to touch Bucky when they talked. Different from how he touched the other Avengers, which just made Bucky warm all over to think about.   
  
“It makes sense,” Sam said easily as Bucky dished him up potatoes and eggs, then snagged two pieces of toast with his metal hand just as they were ejected from the toaster. “It does! But you should also consider that some people who are uncomfortable around small children might have an easier time when the kid is older. Or, if they're comfortable with him now, they might have a harder time when he's older.”  
  
Bucky scowled at Sam as he set the plate down. “That's not helping.”  
  
“What I’m saying is you are looking too far into the future. Let's just deal with _today_ today. Your nephew is coming to spend time with you, and for lunch you’re going out with him and two of your team mates. That’s _all this is_ today.”  
  
Bucky cocked his head, listening for Steve before he fixed Sam with a look. “Is that what you tell yourself with Steve?”  
  
Sam glared at him over a forkful of of potatoes. “Excuse me?”  
  
“You have a giant crush on Steve that is visible from _space_ , Wilson. The only reason he doesn’t see it is because he doesn’t know how to look.”  
  
Sam sighed heavily. “Bucky - we’re not talking about me and Steve.”  
  
“Now we are - you did your head shrinking on me for this morning and now we’re gonna work on _your_ lovelife. We’re friends, ain’t we?”  
  
Sam deflated at that and stuck the forkful of potatoes into his mouth. “He’s in love with _you_.”  
  
Bucky snorted into his coffee. “ _Steve_? Nah.”  
  
“Really? Because going around the world hunting for you tells me otherwise.”  
  
“If you knew your brother was out there and thought he needed you, wouldn't you go looking?”  
  
Sam nodded and sipped his coffee, and Bucky let himself be smug. “So, what, you think now that you're home he’ll be less dense?”  
  
“Eh. You should just ask him out. He appreciates forward people - but not too forward, either. Throw yourself at him and he'll panic.”  
  
Sam snorted. “Should I be writing this down?”  
  
“Nope. Seriously, ask him over for dinner. Order in take out if you don't wanna cook. Watch a movie. I’ll go down to the lab with the nerds and let them poke at the arm and run their tests and maybe Tony will let me crash on the sofa he has down there. Or he, Banner, and I will stay up all night doing science. Whatever.”  
  
Sam shook his head, snorting. “I’ll never get over how you and Stark are friends and he’s oblivious to your giant crush on him.”  
  
“He likes my sass,” Bucky said, slurping his coffee. “Also, it helps that I wasn't the one his Dad was in love with.”  
  
Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “He tell you that?”  
  
“No, but I knew Howard. Howard, however, was one of those types, you know? Thinking about what other people would say, couldn't let people think he was queer. He loved Steve, loved that he helped create him - you could see it in his face when he looked at him. I mean, Steve couldn't, because he's an idiot, but yeah. So, Howard had a thing for Steve, was obsessed with Steve, but could never let himself have Steve. Marrying Maria was caving to what was expected of him, as was having Tony. Between you, me, and the bread box, Howard was never gonna be a good father, even if Steve hadn't gotten frozen. Such things were a distraction from his work.”  
  
Sam frowned at him. “You are six kinds of insightful this morning.”  
  
“I’m a sniper - it's my job to observe.”  
  
Sam clinked his mug against Bucky's at that, hiding the slow drag up and down of his gaze as Steve walked into their kitchen behind a sip of coffee. “Was beginning to think you got washed down the drain.”  
  
Steve shook his head with a sheepish smile. “Nah, just… enjoying the hot water.”  
  
Bucky's eyes narrowed and he put extra sausage on Steve's plate. “Plans for today?”  
  
“I… actually was hoping you wouldn't be too busy, Sam - there's an exhibit at the MoMA I wanted to see, I was hoping you'd come with? We can get dinner after.”  
  
“Hey, sure man, sounds great.”  
  
Steve beamed, and Bucky turned his attention back to his own breakfast.  
  
His teammates were ridiculous.  
  
\---  
  
Peter was always wide-eyed when Bucky brought him to the Tower, and Bucky kind of hoped Peter never stopped being amazed by it all.  
  
(Peter’s first introduction to JARVIS had Bucky on edge, but Peter had been delighted, spending over _two hours_ asking the AI constant questions and only stopping when he got interrupted by his own yawn for the fifth time and JARVIS recommended a nap.  
  
Before they left for home, Peter had petted the wall next to the door gently. “Thank you for teaching me so much, Mr. Building-Jarvis! It’s hard to hug a building, so this is the best I can do.”  
  
“I consider myself hugged, Peter,” JARVIS said, and if Bucky hadn't known better, he would've said the AI’s voice sounded choked up with emotion.)  
  
This time was no different, that awe and wonder not fading so much as being regulated to a background task once they got in the elevator and Peter happily said hello to “Mr. Building-Jarvis” and asked how his morning had gone.  
  
From what Bucky remembered about his own sisters, Peter was pretty polite for a four year old.  
  
The morning went well - JARVIS had found several early childhood development worksheets for Peter to work on, which took an hour because Peter was frighteningly intelligent and it kind of terrified Bucky that he could not only list all the states, but could also spell Massachusetts off the top of his head (Bucky had to look it up to double check).  
  
It was almost a relief when lunch rolled around - not so much that he was running out of stuff for Peter to do, but the kid was starting to get that bouncy loss of focus he got when he needed to stop being indoors.  
  
Clint and Natasha met them on his floor, and Peter pressed his back up against Bucky's legs, watching wide-eyed as Clint knelt in front of him with an easy grin.  
  
“Hey, you must be Peter, right?” He asked, signing as he spoke. “My name is Clint, but my friends call me Hawkeye.”  
  
(It was interesting, Bucky thought, that Clint had spelled out his name, and then the sign for it, but had just signed Hawkeye - an 'h’ tapped to the corner of his right eye.)  
  
Peter nodded shyly, though his gaze shifted as Natasha as she knelt next to Clint. “My name is Natasha, Peter. We work with your Uncle - he’s told us so much about you,” She said, signing as she spoke as well.  
  
Peter nodded again. “Hello, Mr. Clint, Miss Natasha,” he mumbled, signing back.  
  
“Ready to get some lunch?”  
  
Peter nodded again, reaching back to tangle his fingers in Bucky’s pants.  
  
Natasha tilted her head, watching him. “Are you certain? We don’t have to go out if you’re not comfortable with it. Clint and I can join you some other time.”  
  
“I don’t want that,” Peter said quickly, and Bucky gave a mental cheer that he hadn’t signed with it - a sure sign he was getting more comfortable. “Is it okay, though? You’re _Avengers_.”  
  
Clint grinned wide, his eyes crinkling with it. “It’s okay - if something happens while we’re out, we’ll just have to make it up to you when we get back.”  
  
Peter looked between them  thoughtfully for a moment before he nodded. “Okay.”  
  
Clint held up his hand for a fist bump, and Peter bumped it with his own, before he held his hand out to Natasha for her to knock her fist loosely against Peter’s own little one, too. Peter smiled up at her, shy but bright and Bucky felt some nervousness from earlier settle down.  
  
Things would be fine.  
  
\--  
  
Things were not fine.  
  
They had been walking down the street, Peter talking a mile a minute the way he did when he got excited about something, telling Natasha and Clint about something he had read in a book, when the truck across the street backfired.  
  
Clint’s head snapped around toward the noise, Natasha's only reaction had been to tense up, and Bucky pulled Peter closer to him.  
  
Peter had fallen silent.  
  
Once they shook themselves off, Clint snorting and giving Bucky an eyeroll and Bucky running his hand through his hair, Natasha caught Bucky's eye and looked significantly down at Peter.  
  
Peter was pale, so much so that Bucky could see the veins under his skin, and his brown eyes were wide in unseeing terror.  
  
“Peter?” Bucky asked, keeping his voice soft. “It was just a truck, little one.” When Peter didn't respond to him, Bucky knelt in front of him. “ _Malyutka?_ ”  
  
-bad men found me,- he signed, small and tight.  
  
“Hawkeye, Widow-” Bucky started, sweeping Peter up into his arms and zipping his coat up around him, and Clint nodded, eyes scanning the surrounding area like he was on a mission.  
  
Natasha said nothing, leading them into a restaurant, through its kitchen, and out the back door. Bucky followed her, feeling Peter trembling in fear against him as Clint brought up the rear.  
  
All because a Goddamned truck backfired.  
  
Natasha lead them to what was apparently an entrance to Avengers Tower underground garage, scanning her Avengers ID card at the reader and waving them all into the building before she closed and locked the door behind them, leading them through the service passage toward the elevator.  
  
“Avengers-only access,” She said tightly once they were all in the elevator. “No one else can get in here.”  
  
Bucky slumped back against the wall and opened his jacket up. “Hear that, Peter? You're safe now, okay? No one can get to you, here.”  
  
Peter nodded, slow and careful before he lifted himself away from Bucky's chest to sign “thank you” to Clint and Natasha. And then shoved a bit at Bucky's chest. -Down, please-  
  
“Are you sure?” Bucky felt stupid for asking - his little nephew had been so scared before, and now he wanted Bucky to put him _down_?  
  
Peter didn't look at him as he nodded once sharply, a small scowl on his face that made him look so much like Matt it was uncanny.  
  
“Okay, if that's what you want.” Bucky looked helplessly at Clint and Natasha as he set Peter down on his feet, and was met with only shrugs.  
  
When the elevator stopped, Tony was waiting for them, looking like he had just come up from the workshop in ripped jeans and an oil stained band t-shirt. “Is everyone okay?”  
  
“Yeah, we're fine,” Clint said as they stepped out of the elevator. “Truck backfired and made us all jump but Peter-"  
  
Peter burst into tears. “I ruined it!”  
  
“You ruined it?” Tony asked. “Why’d you ruin a truck?”  
  
Peter shook his head, arms wrapped tight around himself.  
  
“Do you want a hug, kiddo?” Tony asked, his voice kind. At Peter's nod, he knelt down and let Peter fling his arms around his neck, clinging tightly to Tony as he cried. “There we go. Wanna tell me what happened?”  
  
“I got scared and ruined lunch and now they're mad,” Peter sobbed.  
  
“Really?” Tony glanced over at the three of them. “Are you guys mad?”  
  
“Not at all,” Clint said. “Everyone gets scared, squirt - you just haven't learned how to cope yet.”  
  
“I was scared, too,” Natasha said softly, kindly.  
  
Bucky’s chest felt tight. “I could never be mad at you, _Malyutka_. Not for something like this.”  
  
Peter looked between them all, confused and still dripping tears and snot. “But we had to come home and we can't eat where you wanted,” he wailed.  
  
“Hey, it's fine - as soon as JARVIS let me know you were home early, I ordered from the restaurant you uncle wanted to take you to. So now the food is on its way, and you're safe, and everything worked out. See? Problem solved.”  
  
Peter shook his head. “But-!”  
  
“Peter,” Tony said carefully. “What made you scared? The sound of the truck?” At Peter's miserable nod, Tony nodded. “You know what scares me? Putting my head under water. I can't go to the beach anymore, it's awful. But it's like Clint said - you haven't learned what to do when you have to deal with something that scares you. But you will. So no one here is mad at you for being scared, and no one here thinks you ruined anything. I promise.”  
  
“Oh…”  
  
“Look at you, you're all a mess again - is this gonna happen every time I see you?” Tony pulled out a rag from his pocket, then looked at it better and wrinkled his nose. “Eh, I probably shouldn't use this on you, huh? It would make you even more of a mess!”  
  
Peter giggled, watery but _there_ , and nodded.  
  
“So, how about I let your Uncle Bucky help you get washed up, and when you come out, you can pick something to veg out in front of while you wait for the food.”  
  
Peter rubbed at his eyes. “Are you joining us for lunch?”  
  
Tony blinked. “I, uh-”  
  
“I have no problem with it, do you Clint?” Natasha looked over.  
  
Clint shrugged, hands still in his pockets. “Not at all. Bucky?”  
  
Bucky shook his head mutely.  
  
“Guess that settles that then, huh? Okay.”  
  
“Could you take him to get washed up, Tony?” Bucky said. “You need to get washed up yourself.” Bucky needed to sit down and breathe for a few minutes.  
  
Tony pointed to him with a nod. “That is an excellent point - what do you say, snot goblin? Wanna help each other out with the soap?”  
  
Peter nodded, still sniffling with a few stray tears, but he had apparently calmed down.  
  
“While you do that, Nat, Bucky, and I are gonna hunt down blankets and pillows. Pete can help us make the blanket fort when he gets back,” Clint was saying, and Bucky blinked at him.  
  
“A blanket fort?” Bucky asked, feeling a little like he had missed a part of the conversation.  
  
“Yeah! It'll be awesome, you’ll see!” Clint said, his grin mischievous as Natasha smirked.  
  
“Right. Okay. Well, we have our marching orders, kiddo - let's go.” Tony carried off Peter toward a bathroom, and Bucky sank down into the closest chair.  
  
“Jesus Christ on a cracker,” he muttered, rubbing his face with his hands before running them through his hair. “Thanks, you two - for earlier. Sorry about lunch.”  
  
Clint and Natasha looked at each other, then down at Bucky. “Sarge-”  
  
Natasha cut Clint off. “He was scared. He was scared and he thought someone had found him, and Clint and I have been on enough protection details to know that when your client is being shot at - and in this case that's where Peter's mind went - you get them to a safe, defensible position before you do anything else.”  
  
Bucky nodded. He didn't have a lot of experience with doing “protection details” - he was usually the one they were being protected _from_. He took another deep breath. “He thought HYDRA had found him again.”  
  
“Yeeeah, we, uh, know all about that,” Clint said, looking a bit shifty. “When you and your lawyers came to the Tower the first time, Tony had these huge files on you guys, including Peter. The police report about what happened to him, including the notes on how the case ended, was all in there. So… we know about the HYDRA agent, and his aunt and uncle, and how he was there for all that.” Clint gave a wry chuckle. “PTSD, the gift that keeps on giving.”  
  
Bucky snorted and let Natasha help him back up from the chair. “I can go up against armies and assassins, but one terrified little boy and I’m out of sorts.”  
  
Natasha gave him a wry smile. “He’s your nephew. You love him.”  
  
“Yep.” Bucky clapped his hands together with a grin. “Let's go get those blankets. We have a fort to make.”  
  
\---  
  
Tony had apparently ordered the entire restaurant menu to be delivered to the Tower, unsure of what anyone would want to order from there and “Between Cap and Thor, we don't have to worry about what doesn't get eaten.”  
  
Peter, Natasha, and Clint were all on the massive nest of pillows on the floor as they watched Harry Potter (with the closed captioning on, because after his wailing outburst Peter had gone silent and was only signing again, and Clint had taken out his hearing aid in solidarity), leaving Bucky and Tony to sit on the couch they had built the fort around.  
  
“Tony…?” Bucky asked, leaning close and keeping his voice low.  
  
“Yeah, what’s up,” Tony murmured back.  
  
Bucky licked his lips. “You said JARVIS let you know we were home early. Why did you think it was early?”  
  
Tony glanced at him. “Because I knew what happened.”  
  
Bucky blinked. “Huh?”  
  
“Look, you’re living here and you said you were gonna have your nephew come visit you - your tiny baby nephew who is very small and fragile - so I put in a few new protocols with JARVIS that he lets the nearest Avenger know if Peter is in trouble when not in the Tower or at home, that's all. Since he was out with you, JARVIS just let me know that you guys were coming back early.”  
  
“How would he know?”  
  
“Because I hacked the traffic cameras,” Tony said simply. Like it made all the sense in the world.  
  
Maybe it did.  
  
“Hey, Tony?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“Thanks. For helping with Peter.”  
  
Tony shrugged a shoulder, looking uncomfortable with the gratitude. “It wasn't a problem. He’s yours, isn't he?”  
  
Bucky blinked, processing what Tony said when Natasha turned around in where she sat and shushed them with a playful smile.  
  
“Sorry,” Bucky whispered to her, wrapping his arm around Tony's shoulders.  
  
Tony shot him a look, but relaxed against Bucky's side easily.  
  
Bucky smiled to himself as he returned his attention to the movie.  
  
_Maybe I’ll make dinner for Tony tomorrow night._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Russian Translation:  
> Malyutka - Little one


	5. Chapter 2 Interlude: Foggy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That... is not reassuring. What happened?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout outs to my beta readers for their help with this! fulldaysdrive, nightwalker, and A_SoD!
> 
> any other mistakes in this are mine and mine alone

Foggy’s phone rang with a call from a number he didn’t recognize. “Hello?”  
  
“Hello, Mr. Nelson,” JARVIS said, and Foggy took a second to marvel at how a building’s AI was calling him. “It is JARVIS, from Avengers Tower.”  
  
“I remember you, Jarvis,” Foggy said, hoping the AI knew he was smiling. “How are you? Is there something I can help you with?”  
  
What Foggy could do for an AI, he had no idea, but it seemed right to offer.  
  
“It is about Peter - he is unharmed, and everyone is safe, but there was an incident earlier today and I felt it… prudent to inform you before he and the Sergeant arrived.”  
  
Foggy frowned. “That… is not reassuring, but what happened?”  
  
“The Sergeant, Agent Romanov, and Agent Barton were taking Peter out to lunch when a large truck backfired across the street from them. Peter thought they were being shot at.”  
  
Foggy’s heart stopped for a moment. “But it was just a truck?”  
  
“Yes. Peter felt extremely unsafe, and they decided to bring him back to the Tower and Sir ordered everyone lunch in, instead. After the initial upset, Peter regressed into speaking only in sign language.”  
  
Ah. Foggy let out a slow breath. “I see why you wanted to give me a heads up. Thank you, by the way, I really appreciate it.”  
  
“I am… fond of Peter, Mr. Nelson. Sir is as well - he put very specific protocols in place in the Tower to ensure Peter’s utmost safety, in addition to what he showed you when the Sergeant moved in.”  
  
“Really? What are those?”  
  
What Tony Stark had showed Foggy had been the safe room where Pepper Potts would go, state of the art security and walls so thick _Hulk_ couldn't dent them, all while looking like a fancy apartment.  
  
It had been genuinely reassuring, to know Peter would be safe if the worse should happen.  
  
“I am to keep track of him, if he is not at home or in the Tower, and alert the nearest Avenger should he be in danger.”  
  
“...do I want to know how you are keeping track of him?”  
  
“Probably not, Mr. Nelson.”  
  
Foggy sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “Thank you, Jarvis. I appreciate the heads up. Actually, while I have you on the line - I would like updates from you about Peter. It's not that I don't trust Bucky,” Foggy continued quickly, lest the AI get the wrong idea about how Foggy felt about his brother-in-law. “But sometimes he’ll downplay things. At least in regards to himself.”  
  
“I had noticed that, yes. If my opinion is worth anything to you, I do not believe he would do that in regards to Peter.”  
  
“Your opinion is highly valued in this household - you’re the only one who can keep up with Peter.”  
  
“Thank you, Mr. Nelson. I shall keep you apprised of Peter's well-being.”  
  
“Thank _you_ , Jarvis. Have a good day, okay?”  
  
“As best I can, Mr. Nelson,” the AI replied drolly, and Foggy couldn't stop the soft chuckle.  
  
“Bye.”  
  
Foggy hung up and let out a slow breath before he checked his watch. There was plenty of time for him to get Peter's favorite comfort food ready if he left work now to get the groceries. Foggy saved JARVIS's phone number in his phone as Alfred, because Foggy was _hilarious_ , and hurried out as he left a voicemail for Matt saying he needed to pick up some things for dinner, that he loved him, and he’d see him at home.  
  
—  
  
The apartment smelled, quite frankly, _wonderful_ when Bucky showed up with Peter that night.  
  
Foggy wrapped Peter up in a tight hug. “Hey kiddo - I heard you had a rough day today.”  
  
Peter stared at him, then twisted to look at Bucky, then back at Foggy. -how- he signed, baffled.  
  
Foggy grinned. “Dad powers.” He kissed Peter’s cheek. “Go cuddle with Daddy - he had a rough day, too.” That was an understatement, once Matt had gotten back to the apartment and Foggy had told him what had happened with Peter that afternoon.  
  
 _(“What does God have against my son that he can’t have a break for more than a month at a time?!”_ _Matt snarled, his jaw clenched tight.  
  
_ _“I’m pretty sure God doesn’t have a vendetta against our baby, Matt. Life just sucks sometimes.”  
  
_ _“Well, it’s bullshit!”  
  
_ _“What are you gonna do, fight every truck you come across? Ninja service every vehicle so backfiring never happens? Forget Daredevil, you can be The Masked Mechanic.”  
  
_ _He’d gotten a reluctant laugh out of Matt with that one, but Matt had gone out on the roof to calm down until just five minutes ago, when he heard Bucky and Peter turn up their block.)  
  
_ Once Peter was on his feet, he headed into the living room to climb into Matt’s lap, if Matt’s soft chuckle was anything to go by.  
  
Foggy turned to look at Bucky. “And how are you holding up?”  
  
“Hm? I’m fine.”  
  
Foggy fixed his brother-in-law with a flat look. “I may not be able to hear heartbeats, but I do know bullshit when I hear it, Buck.”  
  
Bucky ran his flesh hand through his hair. “I _am_ okay, Fog. I was more shaken that Peter was so scared than I was freaked out about the sound.”  
  
“Good. You want to stay for dinner? It’s homemade mac and cheese with chicken and peas.”  
  
Bucky winced regrettably. “That might be too heavy for me today. Stress, and all.”  
  
“Want me to send some home?”  
  
“ _Yes_ ,” Bucky flushed, embarrassed. “Please and thank you.”  
  
Foggy chuckled as he hugged Bucky tightly. “Go sit with your brother, he was upset when he found out about what happened today.”  
  
“How _did_ you find out?”  
  
Foggy arched his eyebrow at Bucky. “I ain’t a snitch, Barnes.”  
  
Bucky scowled. “ _Natasha_. It’s the kind of thing she’d do.”  
  
Foggy shrugged. “I couldn’t possibly comment one way or the other.”  
  
He did, however, allow himself a smirk as he headed into the kitchen.  
  
Bucky should _know_ that you never give away your eye in the sky’s position.  
  
 __Maybe I should change it to Oracle?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday today (7/12), so I figured now was as good a time as any to post the next chapter set for you all!
> 
> Happy birthday to me, have a traumatized baby!
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> IT BEGINS!
> 
> Before we really get started I want to say a few things. 
> 
> Firstly, thank you to all my readers who have stuck with me and commented and left kudos - I love you guys and you make me so happy!
> 
> But! There was a bit of a mess with some comments - I am not naming names, I am not calling people out - and I've been forced to make a new rule:
> 
> If you comment with character hate that has nothing to with the actions of that character in this story/series, the comment will be deleted. Character hate is upsetting to me when it has nothing to do with the action of the character in the fic! There's a huge difference between "omg what are they doing NO YOU MORON DON'T DO THAT THAT'S BAD" and "I hate this character so much I hope they die so Marvel stops making their movies/tv show", being that the first one actually has to do with the fic, and the second has no place in my comments-section. You wanna talk about that, that's why we have tumblr. In fact, I would LOVE to talk to you guys about that stuff on tumblr! Hit me up [over there](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/amaronith) and we can talk about this stuff all you want!
> 
> Secondly! This story is going to have a ton of characters in it by the end, some of whom already have Netflix shows!
> 
> Netflix shows that I still haven't seen. 
> 
> Netflix shows whose casting I don't agree with. 
> 
> *stares at Iron Fist*
> 
> Basically what I'm saying is canon is now a hand-wavy thing and I do what I want. I am cherry-picking what I like from canon and dismissing what I don't care for. I am pretty sure, though, that if any of you had a problem with that, you wouldn't have been reading this series in the first place!
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me this far, and I hope you enjoy the fic!


End file.
